Fast and Infuri8
by CowPlantsForHire
Summary: Contains spoilers to Furious 7. After narrowly escaping death, Dom Toretto must reunite with his crew in order to take down the Shaws and their hired help, who are in pursuit. Will there be more impossible stunts and street races? More love triangles? Character deaths?The main characters will be OOC. You've been warned.


**Author's note:** _ **Here's my first The Fast and the Furious fan fiction. The characters are going to be out of character due to the story having some humor in it, I only saw four of the seven films (Tokyo Drift, Fast Five, Furious Six, and Furious Seven), and I couldn't care less about them. There's also an OC in the story just to make things worse (can you tell that I don't like OCs? No? Hopefully, you will, in time). This story takes place after Furious Seven, so it, of course, contains spoilers.**_

 _ **There are probably already stories like this one in the Fast and Furious archive of this website, but whatever; I'm going to go ahead and do my own version of that story type until it reaches its end or I lose interest, whichever comes first. This first chapter is a bit short. I won't guarantee that the sequential chapters would be any longer.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy…**_

FFF

Deckard Shaw lay on the tiny mattress of his bed, staring up at the ceiling of his cramped cell. He tried laying his head on his hands, but since his handcuffs were keeping his hands separated, he had trouble doing so, and thus he opted to put his hands on his chest. He wished he hadn't, because the cuffs turned out to be heavier than he'd expected. As Deckard took shallow breaths while staring up at the ceiling, he thought back to when he found his fake brother's mangled body on the airstrip outside of that military base, and how he's been in a coma ever since. He was also thinking about how he went after Dominic Toretto; how he chased him worldwide, until he cornered Dom on the rooftop of a parking garage in Los Angeles.

How Dom defeated him by curb stomping a crack that appeared in the roof after the helicopter behind them shot a part of it, causing that part to collapse. Deckard could never forgive himself for being defeated in such a dumb way. If Owen had seen it… No, his defeat was equally as dumb as Deckard's, perhaps a bit more since his led to him being hospitalized in a coma where, if he managed to come to, he probably wouldn't be nothing more than a vegetable – and not the edible kind.

Deckard, of course, didn't believe the doctor and the nurse when they told him about his brother's condition while they were cowering in a corner of his room. Deckard shook his head as his thoughts then went back to the day that Dom had defeated him.

 _You may have won this battle, Toretto,_ he thought. _But you didn't win the war. I, too, have my resources. Not only would she look after my little brother and help me escape from this hellhole, but she'll also help me locate you, so that I can take you out once and for all…_

Wait, Deckard wants to take Dom out for a date? Just then, Deckard heard the sound of his cell door opening. Startled, he rolled off his bed, and then landed hard on the floor. He was now lying on his hands, handcuffs, and stomach.

As he let out a soft groan, he heard loud footsteps. Agent Hobbs and a few guards stood a few feet away from the doorway. Hobbs had a big, cheesy grin on his face. He and the guards had watched Deckard while he was lost in his thoughts through the tiny window in the cell door for a few moments before they decided to barge into the room.

Hobbs sure loved to disturb Deckard's peace; he did so with every chance that he could get since Deckard was incarcerated several months ago. Hobbs really needs a hobby, - get it, get it, get it? - or to be a better father to his rent-a-child. As Deckard struggled to sit up, Hobbs leaned forward, the smile never fading from his features.

"Rise and shine, Mo –"

FFF

Dom found himself at a bar in an undisclosed location, drinking a bottle of Corona. He'd run away from his family and friends after Letty got her memories back, and after Brian decided to retire from the streets and lead a normal life with Dom's fake sister, Mia, and their two rent-a-children. Dom couldn't believe that Letty wanted to settle down – _again_ – after remembering who she was and their relationship, even though she was a walking, talking zombie and _he_ was the one who wanted them to get back together in the first place. Perhaps, he was happier when she couldn't figure out that the circle block did not fit into the triangle-shaped hole?

"I'm amnesiac, not retarded, Dom," she had told him.

Even then, that was not why he'd left. Dom had left his loved ones behind, because he knew that _they_ were still after him. Who were "they," one may ask. Either the Shaws, even though one of them was in a coma while the other was in prison, or the terracotta warriors – unless they were all defeated that night in Los Angeles when Dom attached Deckard's bag, which was full of grenades, onto their helicopter.

In addition to Dom worrying about the aforementioned arch-nemeses and the other foes coming after his behind, - and not in a good way - he was probably upset about Brian, who had left the streets behind and settled for a boring, domestic life. After all, Dom and Mia were the ones who introduced him to the life on the streets many years ago, and for him to quit that life meant that he was quitting – _ending -_ his friendship with the older Toretto sibling. But didn't Dom want to live the so called "boring, domestic life" with Letty, and not be on the run anymore?

"Dom, you can't keep doing this forever," Brian had told him. "Eventually, you're going to find someone you love, and would want to settle down with them and enjoy your lives together."

Like Letty, right?

"I can't leave the streets, Brian," Dom replied. "Once you join the streets, you can't ever leave. They become a part of you. They breathe life into you, and they run through your veins. The streets have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember."

Was Dom's response heartwarming or not? Brian couldn't tell, for he suddenly fell into a trance while staring at Dom's shirt. It fit him tightly, making the older man's "moobs" and his spare tire of a stomach prominent. Dom was, for some reason, standing very close to Brian, so the younger male had trouble looking away from his best friend's stuffed sausage midsection.

What a way for them to spend their last night together...

"But Mia, our unborn daughter, Jack, Letty, and I need you, Dom," Brian said after snapping out of the trance. How was he sure that he was having a daughter? Did Mia get an ultrasound yet? "You're family. We can't lose you. _I_ can't lose you…"

Dom paused, wondering if he had remembered that night correctly. He could've sworn that Brian's response didn't sound as sappy and clichéd as that – or like something out of a romantic comedy. What he _did_ remember without uncertainty was leaving his family and friends behind on the beach the following day and that, had Brian not followed Dom, Brian wouldn't have been the last person to say goodbye to him. It has been several months, since Dom had last seen them.

He only kept in contact with them via calling on his cell phone, since he thought that he was too cool for social media. Maybe it had something to do with he and his crew trying to keep a low profile after what they did in Los Angeles some years ago, which led to Brian losing his job as a FBI agent, _and_ when Deckard came after them, specifically Dom. They need to cover their tracks better. No matter what his sister, best friend, nephew, Letty or the rest of the crew would tell him, Dom wasn't convinced to return home.

He didn't want to put his loved ones in harm's way again, especially now that there's a new addition to his family. Because of that, Dom had been doing nothing but drinking excessively and moping about his life since his departure. He gulped down the remaining liquid in his Corona bottle before placing it onto the counter. Just then, the bartender appeared from out of nowhere, holding a glass in one hand while holding a white cloth in the other.

He stood on the other side of the counter. As he was wiping the glass, he raised his brows at the sight of Dom's empty Corona bottle.

"Another one, eh?" the bartender chuckled. "Boy, you must have a high alcohol tolerance. I should keep an eye on you."

Dom looked down at the floor, and noticed that there was a small pile of Corona bottles by his feet. It looks like Alcohol Anonymous would have a new member soon – if alcohol poisoning doesn't get to him first. Dom tilted his head back, then narrowed his gaze as a smug smile crossed his lips.

"When you have to deal with as much crap as I do, you, too, would down a couple of drinks," he told him.

"Couple? You drank three whole bottles!"

"Make that _four_ ," Dom corrected, picking up the empty bottle in front of him, and then shaking it a few times.

The bartender lowered the glass, dropped the cloth into it, narrowed his gaze, and then placed a hand on his hip before saying, "Either way, that's enough to kill a man."

Dom chuckled at this, for he wasn't any ordinary man, he was a _Toretto;_ a super human without superhero powers. The only powers that he possessed consists of surviving impossible feats like jumping from a moving vehicle and catching someone in midflight before crashing into the windshield of another car, and consuming gallons of alcohol and becoming nothing more than a little buzzed as result.

"How about you get me another Corona, and we'll see how much more I can take before it finally puts me down?"

The bartender shook his head as he placed the glass on the counter beside Dom.

"No. You've had enough," he told him. "Any more and you'll pass out, or worse. I don't need you dead on my watch."

Before Dom could tell him about his super Toretto powers, the door of the bar opened. He turned around in his seat, and noticed that a woman, dressed in a blue bodysuit with matching heeled-boots, had walked in. She wore big, dark sunglasses that hid her brown eyes, which had folds that covered the inner corners, had a snub nose, lips that weren't too thick or too thin, an olive complexion, and had short, black hair. Dom also noticed that the woman had wide hips with thick thighs, small breast, and appeared to be shorter than both Mia and Letty, even with her heels on.

Why was she wearing a bodysuit? The woman stopped a few feet from the doorway, then looked around the room. Only a few people, including Dom and the bartender, occupied the space. Most of the tables and stools were empty.

It was a little after one in the afternoon on a weekday, so naturally the bar would be mostly void of life because most people were at work during that time. After a moment, the woman's eyes landed on the aging Toretto, who was still staring at her. Was he checking her out? When they met each other's gaze, the woman stared intensely at him behind her shades, opened her mouth a little and then, after a moment, pulled out a handheld device from out of nowhere.

As she stared at the screen of the device, which was right in her face, Dom decided to break the silence as a smile suddenly crossed his lips.

"You want a photograph?" Dom asked, sounding a bit drunk. The effects of the alcohol seemed to finally start kicking in.

The woman paused, looked back at him, and then lowered the device.

"Dominic Toretto?" she asked suddenly, ignoring his question, as she somehow pocketed the device. It didn't look like she had any pockets on her bodysuit.

"Yes…?" he replied, suddenly confused.

How did she know his name? Just then, the ravenette approached him. The bartender watched silently, probably wondering if she was going to order anything at some point. When she reached the duo, she surprised them both – by pulling out a nine millimeter pistol out of thin air, or from one of her "pockets," and then pointing it in the Toretto's direction.

She cocked the gun, causing the other patrons to gasp loudly. Was this an elaborate joke or did the woman want some sort of revenge on Dom, even though he doesn't remember meeting her prior to today?

 _That nine millimeter looks too real for this to be a joke,_ Dom thought, staring down the gun's barrel with wide eyes.

This might sober him up.


End file.
